Tag Archives: Richard Wiseman

“Each generation, people must see themselves as if they themselves went forth from Egypt.”

That quote is the essence of why we celebrate Passover, read the Haggadah, and hold a Seder. When we think about that sentence, we naturally focus on how Passover should inspire us to work for freedom and justice. But often, we overlook two crucial words in that sentence: “as if.” And those two words may, in fact, be the most important ones.

The words “as if” inspired psychologist Richard Wiseman to write a new book called The As If Principle, based on William James’ idea that “if you want a quality, act as if you already have it.” Wiseman highlights some fascinating research that shows that change doesn’t always come from the inside out — sometimes, change comes from the outside in.

In other words, if we act “as if” we were trying to improve who we are and how we behave, we actually do improve who we are and how we behave.

One striking example he brings up was a method to get heavy smokers to give up cigarettes. There have been all sorts of attempts to get people to give up smoking over the years, and most have used the scare route, such as public service announcements featuring people who have lost their voice box or ever-increasingly-ominous warnings on cigarette packs. But John Mann, a researcher at Harvard, decided to try something different: role-playing.

Twenty-six very heavy smokers were randomly assigned to two different groups. One group was asked to behave “as if” they had been diagnosed with lung cancer, and even went into a room that looked like a doctor’s office, complete with an actor in a white coat, X-rays and medical charts. This group was asked to think about how they would behave now that they “had” cancer. In contrast, the control group simply were simply presented information about how awful it would be to have lung cancer, but didn’t do any role-playing.

What happened to the two groups? Before the study, all the participants were smoking about 25 cigarettes per day. At the end, the control group had cut back by five cigarettes. But the role-playing group had cut back by 10. Even years later, the group that had to act “as if” they needed to change their lives actually did. (Wiseman, 123)

Role-playing, acting “as if” we were someone else, changes our outlook and our behavior, and so that is why the Seder commands us to act “as if we ourselves went forth from Egypt” — because Passover, at its heart, is truly an act of role-playing. We have props (the seder plate, Elijah’s cup), stage directions (recline, drink wine) and a script (the Haggadah). And they are all designed to help us act as if we ourselves went forth from Egypt.

So what outlook or behavior is Passover trying to get us to change? Rabbi Lawrence Hoffman, who calls the Haggadah “the script for a sacred drama” in order to help us to role-play more effectively, argues that it’s to help us connect to our history, our community, and our obligations to others. As he says, when we host our Seder and act “as if we ourselves went forth from Egypt,”

[we] do not just “play” the roles, [we] are the roles, and [we] take the roles so seriously they [we] internalize them as [our] identities. When the actress playing Lady Macbeth leaves the theater, she is not expected to murder someone on the way home; when Jews put down their Haggadah, they are expected to have a heightened sense of Jewish identity and to be more attuned to their Jewish responsibilities. People, that is, who leave the Seder and ignore the plight of the homeless have missed the point. (Hoffman, My People’s HaggadahVol. 1, 5-6)

The “as if” principle teaches us that “once you behave as if you were a type of person, you become that person.” So on this Passover, when we act “as if” we ourselves went out from Egypt, we are also leading ourselves to act like people who care deeply about the oppressed, who fight for justice, and who extend a hand to those less fortunate.

And when we act that way, we soon realize that we aren’t simply role-playing; we truly are changing ourselves and our world for the better. Indeed, those two little words that we too often ignore — “as if” — are truly what allows us to transform our hopes and dreams into our reality.

Sometimes, it means that we are aware of our surroundings, as opposed to the times when are we blind to what’s going on around us.

Sometimes, it means that we are acting intentionally, as opposed to the times when we act without thinking.

And sometimes it means that we know our self, meaning that we are trying to determine who we really are.

These aspects of consciousness — awareness, intentionality and self-knowledge — have become rich sources of scientific inquiry. Interestingly, these ideas also have deep resonance with teachings found within Jewish tradition.

So where do Judaism and the science of consciousness intersect? What would a “conscious Judaism” look like? And what does Judaism teach about awareness, intentionality and self-knowledge?

Awareness

In an article in the Skeptical Inquirer, psychologist Richard Wiseman describes a very simple experiment that he ran which shows how a lack of awareness leads us to ignore potential gifts, even when they are staring us right in the face:

I gave…people a newspaper, and asked them to look through it and tell me how many photographs were inside…I [also] placed a…large message half way through the newspaper. [It] announced: “Stop counting, tell the experimenter you have seen this and win $250.” …[The unaware] people missed the opportunity because they were still too busy looking for photographs.

So simply by becoming more aware — more conscious — people discovered unexpected gifts they otherwise would have missed. And so the natural next question is — how many gifts do we receive each day that we are simply not conscious of?

The answer? Far too many. And because we are often totally unaware of all the blessings that we experience each and every day, Jewish liturgy reminds us that sometimes, we need some help in opening our eyes to the blessings of this world. Perhaps that’s why the Talmud (Menachot 43b) tells us that we should say “one hundred blessings every day” — it’s so that we become that much more aware of the myriad gifts that we experience, but all too often ignore.

Indeed, in his book The Book of Words, Rabbi Lawrence Kushner creatively defines the word b’rachah, “blessing,” as “awakening.” As he says:

Blessings keep our awareness of life’s holy potential ever present. They awaken us to our own lives. Every blessing says, “I am grateful to be a creature and to remind myself and God that life is good.”

With each blessing uttered, we extend the boundaries of the sacred and ritualize our love of life. One hundred times a day. Everywhere we turn, everything we touch, everyone we see. (Kushner, 20).

So one aspect of a “conscious Judaism” would be about raising our level of awareness of the opportunities, the joys, and the goodness in this world that we so often overlook.

Intentionality

Apparently (at least according to my fiancee), I have a problem with hogging the blankets in the middle of the night. When she wakes up in the morning, the blankets are wrapped tightly around me, and she doesn’t seem to have any. I remember saying to her once that “I don’t intend to steal the blankets,” but clearly that’s wrong — I do intend to do that, since that’s what happens! What I really mean is that I don’t consciously intend to hog the blankets, since I’m not actively trying to leave her shivering in the middle of the night.

Our intentions are what guide our actions, but when we talk about intentionality, we are really talking about conscious intentionality — making a particular decision because that’s the decision we want to make. But in fact, many of our choices are ones that we don’t consciously think about.

Dan Ariely, in his book Predictably Irrational, gives an example: imagine that you have spent most of your life drinking Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. One day, you walk into a Starbucks, buy a cup of coffee, and enjoy it. Then,

…[t]he following week you walk by Starbucks again. Should you go in? The ideal decision-making process should take into account the quality of the coffee (Starbucks versus Dunkin’ Donuts); the prices at the two places; and, of course, the cost (or value) of walking a few more blocks to get to Dunkin’ Donuts. This is a complex computation — so instead, you resort to the simple approach: “I went to Starbucks before, and I enjoyed myself and the coffee, so this must be a good decision for me.” So you walk in and get another small cup of coffee. (Ariely, 37)

Generally, it’s not a problem that we make most of our decisions without too much thought. But all of our choices do have consequences, whether or not we make them consciously — and if we don’t consciously own our decisions, then we won’t be able to accept their consequences.

So how can we raise our level of intentionality?

Here again, Judaism can help guide us, since rabbinic literature emphasizes that all of our actions need to be done with a level of conscious intentionality. In Hebrew, that concept is called kavvanah.

Kavvanah is a subject of study because Judaism is a religion that focuses on actions, and in particular, mitzvot, or sacred actions. On the one hand, doing mitzvot could and should be done regardless of how we feel – we simply have a responsibility to give charity, to observe Shabbat, and to honor our father and mother.

But the Rabbis also tell us that “mitzvot require kavvanah.” (Berakhot 13a) While we could fulfill our sacred obligations out of habit, when we recognize the potential holiness of our actions, we will naturally raise our level of intentionality. As Rabbi James Jacobson-Maisels notes, “mitzvot provide a system of sacred practices that aim to lead us to the realization of the divine presence…For mitzvot to fulfill their purpose, we must bring mindfulness and intention to their practice.” (quoted in Cosgrove, Jewish Theology in Our Time, 38-39)

Judaism reminds us that actions need to be connected to purpose, and purpose manifests itself in actions. When we recognize that every choice is potentially sacred, we will bring more intentionality, more consciousness, to that moment. And if we can increase our level of intentionality, then we will be that much more able to own our decisions — and that much more able to own the consequences.

So a second aspect of a “conscious Judaism” would be about raising our level of intentionality, helping us recognize the potential sacredness of each choice we make.

Self-Knowledge

While awareness and intentionality are certainly important aspects of consciousness, they are also features that we share with all other animals (and, depending on how broadly we define those terms, perhaps even with all living things). But there is one aspect of consciousness that is uniquely human — a sense of self.

All animals have experiences, perceptions and desires, but only human beings can create a coherent sense of self that can not only evaluate the present, but also reflect on the past and plan for the future — and also to know that it is the same “person” who experiences all those moments. As Antonio Damasio notes in his book Self Comes to Mind:

What your life has been, in bits and pieces, is available to you rapidly in recall, and bits and pieces of what your life may or may not come to be, imagined earlier or imagined now, also come into the moment of experience. You are busily all over the place and at the many epochs of your life, past and future. But you — the me in you, that is — never drops out of sight. All of these contents are inextricably tied to a singular reference. Even as you concentrate on some remote event, the connection remains. The center holds. (Damasio, 168)

As far as we know, only humans have this level of self-knowledge, with the ability to become introspective and to create an integrated sense of “self.” And perhaps that ability to construct a unified sense of self is what it means when Judaism says that we are “created in the image of God.”

After all, the most important aspect of God in Judaism is that God is one. While that insight was originally used to claim there weren’t many gods, as the surrounding cultures had argued, it could also mean that God is unified or integrated. So today, when we say that we are “created in the image of God,” we are also saying that even as we grow and change and struggle, there is a continuity in our sense of “self” — who we were, who we are and who we will be are, in fact, all one person.

That’s an important thing to remember, because as evolutionary psychologists Robert Kurzban and Douglas Kenrick argue, we have many “modular subselves,” with different parts of our brain advocating for different goals. For example, in his book Sex, Murder and the Meaning of Life, Kenrick calls these subselves

…the team player (concerned with the goal of making friends), the go-getter (concerned with getting ahead), the night watchman (concerned with protecting us from the bad guys), the compulsive (concerned with protecting us from disease), the swinging single (concerned with finding mates), the good spouse (concerned with the very different problem of keeping those mates), and the parent (concerned with taking care of our kin, especially any children we might have). (Kenrick, x-xi)

All these modular subselves have their own specific role and own specific purpose, so when we feel like different parts of our “self” are at war, it’s really because our different subselves are trying to get us to act in conflicting ways.

And yet despite the fact that one level, “who we are” consists of many subselves, on a deeper level, we know that “who we are” is unified, whole, and complete. And that idea that we know that we are an integrated self parallels a teaching that appears in Pirkei Avot, when Rabbi Akiva said, “while it was a great love that God created humanity in the Divine image, it was an even greater love that they were made aware that they were created in the Divine Image.” (Avot 3:14)

As Rabbi Irwin Kula taught, perhaps the goal of religion is to help people bring their disparate “selves” into a unified whole, reminding people that they truly are created in the image of a unified God.

So a third aspect of a “conscious Judaism” would be about developing an integrated sense of “self,” guiding people towards the knowledge that they are already whole, complete and unified.

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I believe that a “conscious Judaism” — striving to enhance people’s awareness, intentionality and self-knowledge — could improve people’s engagement with the world, their decision-making process, and how they view themselves. It could help people in pursuing tikkun olam, repairing the world, and tikkun hanefesh, repairing the soul.

So now that I’ve shared my thoughts, I want to ask you — in your mind, what would a “conscious Judaism” look like? And how might it help improve both individuals and society at large?